More Than A Number
by TimesNewRomanAlways
Summary: If you were a Joker, where would you look for your Queen of Hearts? (Rating has changed).
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Player**

* * *

To an outsider, it would've been hard to tell who was the more nervous of the two. To the keen observer however, it was evident that one was a player in his own sick, demented game whilst the other was inexplicably being played.

According to her credentials, Harleen Quinzel was a model student in psychiatry. Her impressive grades had earned her an internship at Arkham Asylum; a position most psychiatric interns only dreamed of. But Harleen was so new at the game that others more qualified than herself did not take her seriously. It didn't help that she was tall, leggy and blonde as well, making her an easy target for those who believed she had landed the job based on her looks.

The thought caused her to purse her lips as she gazed at the exchange between Dr Dane Reddman and his patient from behind the safety of the glass barrier in the next room. She had been at Arkham for well over three months and still her superiors had yet to allow her to analyse a patient. She played with the hem of her sleeve, feeling her agitation get the better of her. Harleen was talented at reading people and it was quite plain to her that Dr Reddman was not getting far with this patient. More to the point, the patient was regarding him with barely contained malice.

 _The patient…Arkham Inmate 0801._

"He's annoyed," she remarked to the man standing next to her. If she was honest, annoyed was putting it mildly.

Dr Jason Jennings almost dropped his clipboard, fumbling with his pen as he muttered a quiet obscenity. His gaze quickly returned to the patient session. This was the first time Harleen had seen this particular patient and she was curious if Jennings or Reddman had picked up on his irritation. Arkham was filled with unusual subjects, it was even part of the reason she had accepted the internship, but this man was different. He was a special brand of insane.

"Of course he's annoyed," Dr Jennings replied offhandedly, trying to compose himself. "He's with the Joker."

Harleen raised her eyebrows. "I was talking about the patient but… you actually call him the Joker?"

"He calls himself that," he replied, frowning.

"And you indulge him?" she asked, surprised.

"You're new at this Harleen," he sighed, rubbing his right temple. "The Joker is a violent, schizophrenic sociopath. We indulge where we must."

She gritted her teeth at his self-assuredness. "You've only been here a month longer than I have. I read Reddman's notes and the inmate report; there was no mention of schizophrenia."

His eyes snapped to hers defensively. "Oh and what's your diagnosis then, _Harley_?"

Her eyes narrowed at the impertinent nickname. Her male colleagues had begun calling her Harley of late, believing her to be ignorant of its meaning but she had overheard its vulgar origin while walking past the male restroom. Despite having only had one long term relationship in college, her colleagues called her Harley in reference to the motorbike, insinuating that she was only good for a ride.

"Psychosis," she observed, rising to her colleague's challenge. Before she could continue however, he let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh _very_ good, Harley," he sputtered sarcastically. "He's _psychotic_. Perhaps _that's_ why he's in Arkham."

She felt her blood boil. "Psychosis is measured on a scale," she snapped at him. "Not by your usual mental diagnostic criteria. And you didn't let me finish-"

She was cut off by the abrupt entry of Reddman as he banged the door open in exasperation. Both Harleen and Jennings turned to him, puzzled.

"That's it," he muttered, wiping the sweat beading on his brow as the door swung shut behind him. "I refuse to trade pleasantries with that… that _goddamned clown_ again."

Harleen scoffed, unable to believe that she was supposed to seek guidance from this man. Couldn't her superiors have paired her up with someone else? She was stuck with an intern like herself and a resentful yet politically incorrect doctor.

Jennings nodded. "Joker still giving you grief, Sir?"

Harleen stared at him in disgust. _Sir? Really?_

"I can't find anyone to stick with that crazy fucker for longer than one session," he growled in annoyance but he immediately seemed to regret his choice of words when he noticed Harleen. He cleared his throat, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "My apologies, Ms Quinzel."

Harleen forced her lips into a tense smile. Jennings stared back through the glass at the patient. "Is he laughing… by himself?"

"Yes," Dr Reddman sighed. "You get used to it." He looked down at Jennings' clipboard, assessing his notes. "Maybe I can have him transferred to solitary," he muttered, more to himself. "Really wish he'd given me more on the _Bat_ though…"

Harleen's eyes flicked back to Inmate 0801. She wasn't sure what was worse; that the patient file held no name for the man, only an inmate number or that the 'Joker' was this man's only other known identity. This man was flesh and blood… a person and they had already decided that isolation would suffice as a treatment program.

"I'll do it." Three little words had slipped from her lips before she even had the sense to recall them. Both doctors looked at her in shock.

Jennings sniggered slightly but Reddman hushed him. "Ms Quinzel," he began uncertainly. "I'm sure it is frustrating to not have had a patient yet, but I assure you that you are nearly ready. You don't want your first subject to be with the Joker, trust me. I can arrange for-"

"No, I want to," she said firmly, surprising even herself. "Please." She hurried to reassure him when he continued to look uncertain, smiling confidently. "How bad can my other patients be after _him_?"

She could tell she had won by the defeated look on Reddman's face and the incredulous look on Jennings'. Dr Reddman silently nodded his assent.

Pleased and feeling slightly elated, Harleen returned her gaze to her soon-to-be first patient. His shoulders were still shaking as he laughed quietly to a joke all his own, and Harleen was curious to note the genuine glee radiating from his body. His green hair, pale skin and twisted grin did indeed give him the appearance of some demented clown but Jennings and Reddman were too quick to judge, unable to see his true soul shining from within. Moments before, his irritation poured off of him in waves yet now he seemed quite content without the toxic presence of Dr Reddman. Yes, Harleen smiled, she would help this man to overcome his internal demons. He needed someone to listen to him, someone to truly understand what he was going through and not to pass judgement, but to offer counsel and companionship.

Harleen's smile faltered momentarily when her patient abruptly stopped laughing, turning to stare at her directly through the glass. His face remained impassive as his head tilted ever so slightly to the right, observing her with blank, unreadable eyes. Harleen's breathing hitched, finding herself unable to tear her gaze away yet equally unnerved by the indecipherable look he was leveling her with.

"Freak," she heard Jennings mutter beside her but Harleen felt something cold and dark slide down her back and settle at the base of her spine. Slowly, ever so slowly her patient's lips turned up, parting to reveal a wide toothy grin. But there was nothing reassuring about that smile, nothing friendly or clownish and nothing meant to charm her.

It was the smile of a predator.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Tingles**

* * *

With only a cool, metal table to separate them, Harleen felt exceedingly vulnerable alone in the presence of Arkham Inmate 0801. She wasn't certain whether it was his presence that invited this feeling of helplessness or her own nerves at treating her first patient. Surely it couldn't be him; he was after all restrained in a strait jacket. And despite his supposed violent "Joker" profile, he made no attempt to struggle in his restraints.

Harleen had resolved before their first session that she would not refer to him as the "Joker" but seeing him up close, she could understand where the nickname came from. And yet there was something oddly enticing about his clownish appearance; something she would never admit to her co-workers. His eyes studied her in a way that should have made her uncomfortable but left her feeling strangely flattered instead.

"Hello," she spoke, mentally chiding herself for how tiny her voice sounded. "I'm Dr Harleen Quinzel."

He didn't respond and Harleen found herself wishing he would smile again. Her lips twitched in nervousness as she tried to offer him a smile of her own but his face remained impassive.

"I read your profile," she continued, her voice stronger now. "You've had many doctors. Did none of them appeal to you?" Still he remained silent, unblinking as he continued his analysis of her. She decided to try another approach.

"What should I call you?" She waited to see if he would take insult from such a question, inviting him to speak even if only to reprimand her. Reddman had mentioned to her privately that he took great pride in his carefully constructed image of the "Joker". She expected he might feel slighted if she feigned ignorance of his criminal persona.

 _There_.

It was subtle but it was there; a brief flicker of annoyance crossed his features and Harleen felt a swell of triumph. He may choose not speak with her but she could discern enough from his expressions if she kept at it. "You know, it's only polite you tell me your name, seeing as how I've told you who I am."

"Why do you need a name?" he asked suddenly. "You know who I am. Everyone does."

He had surprised her by answering and Harleen found herself intrigued by the sound of his voice. She had expected it to sound more comical, perhaps even a bit delirious. Instead it resembled a deep, throaty purr but not unpleasant by any means. The sound caused an abrupt shiver to ripple down her spine.

"Then what's the harm?" she pressed, ignoring the peculiar feeling. "Come on, tell me your name."

"How about this? You tell me who you are and I'll let you _give_ me a name."

Harleen frowned in confusion. "You- you want me to give you a name?"

"Once you tell me who you are," he reiterated.

"I already told you my name is Harleen Quinzel," she said, puzzled.

He clucked his tongue at her. "I thought doctors were supposed to be smart," he chided. "Your name isn't who you are. I want to know the woman _behind_ Dr Harleen Quinzel. What makes her tick."

Her lips parted slightly but no sound came out. She blinked at him, unable to formulate a response.

His eyes lit up with a perverted realisation. "Unless you don't know who she is?"

Harleen immediately felt herself withdraw. She would not be sucked into this; she would not play this chess match with him. "Or I could just give you a name regardless," she said firmly, ignoring his jibe.

His smirk faded slightly as he seemed to consider her. "Yes, I suppose you could," he said thoughtfully.

His expression turned gleeful again and Harleen suspected she would soon get whiplash from his mood changes. "Well, Dr Quinzel?" He grinned, taunting her. "Whatcha gonna call me?"

"Well…" She bit her lip, shifting under the scrutiny of his intense blue eyes. None of the other doctors had even gotten this far, that much she knew. She decided to humour him despite the fact that her mind was drawing a blank under pressure. Yet he seemed to be in no hurry as she weighed her options. She considered addressing him by something unassuming or generic, but this seemed just as insulting as referring to him by his inmate number. She thought about how he had addressed her by her title of Dr, following the rules of social etiquette, and this gave her an idea. She followed his example.

"How about… Mister J?" she proposed uncertainly. She had offered the "J" as an obscure link to his "Joker" persona, hoping this would please him. The Mister was to be polite.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, I like it," he purred. "I do, Dr Quinzel."

His voice sent odd tingles down her spine again. "Good," she responded, clearing her throat as she shook off the intrusive shudder. "I'm glad."

Mister J grinned at her. "Do I make you nervous Dr?"

Harleen sat a little straighter. "No," she said stubbornly and his grin widened. "It's just that… you're my first."

"First?" he murmured, eyes widening in delight.

Harleen felt her cheeks heat up. "First patient," she stammered, blushing furiously. "Of course not my first…"

She promptly shut her mouth and stared at the clipboard in front of her so she wouldn't have to see his smirk.

"Lucky me." He chuckled at her evident embarrassment then grimaced slightly as he shifted in his chair.

Harleen frowned, her previous humiliation forgotten. "Are you alright, Mister J?"

"These restraints," he said, rolling his neck uncomfortably. "Make a person feel all… itchy."

She stared at the vest which kept his arms pinned to his body and subconsciously rotated her own wrists in a guilty gesture.

It did look rather uncomfortable.

"Maybe," she began, pursing her lips in contemplation. "Maybe after a few sessions, I can see about having those removed."

"Ya sure know how to sweet talk a guy," he said appreciatively. "Mmmm maybe then all these pesky tingles can stop."

Harleen stared at him, mouth agape. "Tingles?" she gulped.

His eyes twinkled mischievously… **_knowingl_ _y_**. "You wanna know something?" he murmured softly, leaning toward her.

"Yes?" Harleen unconsciously mimicked his motions and leaned closer, curious as to what he wanted to share with her.

His face split into that same predatory smile from when they had first locked eyes. She tingled everywhere.

"I think I've found a doctor who appeals to me," he whispered.

 _God help her._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Him**

* * *

"He's intimidating," Harleen admitted, her eyes skimming her notes as she sat in Dr Reddman's office. "Compulsive. There's a darkness in him; I've never seen anyone so fearless. Watching him, it's… compelling. His world is devoid of rules and so civilised society has no place for him. A true agent of chaos. He's fascinating."

"He's also a psychotic murderer," Dr Reddman snapped rather predictably. Harleen bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing her retort.

"He's a criminal, Ms Quinzel. And a master manipulator. Never forget that. But…" He grudgingly looked at the report she had submitted to him. "This is the most detailed analysis we've had on the Joker so far. Your last four sessions have gone without incident so… I'm assigning you as his full time therapist."

"Thank you," she breathed, her excitement overcoming her desire to berate him. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"But I worry," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. He sat back in his chair, linking his fingers together and resting them on his pronounced belly. "I see your intrigue with this patient. I see your desire to help him."

"Of course," Harleen responded, smiling fondly. "It's why I came here. To make a difference to those who don't have society's protection."

"Sometimes, making a difference means differentiating between the patients you can save… and the ones you _can'_ t."

Her smile disappeared. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning," she replied coldly.

"Ms Quinzel-"

"Why do you call me that?" she interrupted him suddenly, startling him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why do you call me _Ms_ Quinzel? I'm a doctor, same as you." She glared at him in defiance.

"I…" He blinked at her in astonishment. "I mean no disrespect."

"It's funny," she said tilting her head at him, her eyes flashing accusingly. "This _clown_ that you all fear so much… the Joker. He has no rules and yet somehow even _he_ can manage some manners. I wonder why that is?"

Dr Reddman's cheeks grew red with her insinuation and he cleared his throat. "Dr Quinzel," he said rather deliberately. "I would ask that you remember your purpose here. I do not want us to get side-tracked by informalities. Your analysis here is the best we've had… but we need more. I need you to get him to talk about the Batman."

Harleen shook her head firmly. "No." She'd heard talk of this Batman but he was of no interest to her. Her only concern was for her patient, Mister J. _Why could no one else see that?_

"What do you mean, _no_?" he snapped, his nostrils flaring.

"You can't ask me to breach patient confidentiality," she said decisively. "I'll give you an analysis, as is required. But what I discuss with him during our sessions is off limits."

He opened his mouth to say more but Harleen had had enough. She stood, picking up her clipboard. "Thank you, Doctor," she said, a note of finality in her voice. "But I'm going to be late to see my patient."

"Be very careful, Harleen." Dr Reddman's voice followed her to the door causing her to pause momentarily, her hand resting on the doorknob. "The moment your analysis of the Joker ceases to be useful or progressive is the moment you no longer have a patient to analyse."

She walked out of his office slightly shaken, closing the door behind her. She made her way down the hallway, out of sight before quickly leaning against the wall and letting out a soft gasp.

 _What the hell was the matter with her?_

She shook her head imperceptibly, unable to believe her boldness, her _audacity_ to speak to Dr Reddman like that. _And where had it come from?_ Her thoughts were in disarray as she made her way dazedly towards the examination room for her next session with Mister J.

* * *

"You seem out of sorts today, doc," Mister J noted as she slid into her chair, pushing her blonde strands back behind her ears.

"I'm fine," she murmured, waving him off. She took a deep breath to compose herself, plastering a smile on her face as she at last met his gaze.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Really, it's just some internal politics," she said dismissively. "Nothing you have to worry about."

"They don't think you can do it," he observed and she stared at him in amazement. "Oh poor children."

He began to laugh and Harleen couldn't take her eyes off him. "Silly little boys in the playground. Pulling at girl's pigtails and calling them names." He abruptly stopped laughing and Harleen winced slightly at the dark haze that came over him. "They have no idea. No idea that teacher is always watching."

"It's fine, Mister J," she breathed, disturbed by the crazed look in his eyes. "It's just politics…"

He bared his teeth. "I've always _hated_ politics myself." The darkness slowly leaked out of his gaze and he gazed at her. "Don't take it on board. You're above it."

She nodded quickly. "They don't matter," she agreed, relieved that his anger was not directed at her. "You're my only concern."

"I know that," he murmured. "And I appreciate that. That's why I'm hoping…" He moved his shoulders suggestively. "Hoping… you can do me this itsy, bitsy favour."

"Uh… okay," she said uncertainly, silently praying he wasn't going to ask for something unreasonable.

"I get very bored alone in my cell, doc," he said and Harleen felt her heart tug at his empty words. "Lonely. It'd sure be nice if I had something to do."

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, smiling. This was good; this was _progress_. And her co-workers thought she couldn't do this. She'd show them.

"Could I possibly get some paper? And a book on origami?"

"Really?" she asked, unable to help the giggle that escaped her. "You don't come across as someone who would like origami."

"I don't," he said seriously and Harleen bit her lip in embarrassment.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I just assumed…"

"My options are a tad limited in here," he explained and she nodded in understanding. "No. What I like doc… is to _make_ things."

"You like to make things?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

"There's something powerful in being a maker," he said, closing his eyes in satisfaction. "With enough time and effort, you can make anything." He opened his eyes, and his signature smirk returned. "You can even make something beautiful that wasn't before."

"Like what?" Harleen felt self-conscious for asking but keeping him on this subject was yet another milestone for their sessions.

His eyes ran down the length of her body and Harleen shuddered with exhilaration. "How about your nickname… _Harley_?"

"What?" Harleen sat back, sucking in a sharp breath. _How did he know that?_

His eyes flicked back to her face and his grin grew wider. "Come on, doc. Don't play coy. I heard your charming co-workers refer to you as Harley in the hall."

Her lips quivered in humiliation and she looked away, staring at the floor in shame.

"Shhhhhhh shh shh shh," Mister J hushed her, leaning as far forward as his restraints would allow. "They're wrong about you, doc. They think they know you but they don't. They don't know the real you."

Harleen's discomfort lessened and she stared at him again, marvelling at his concern for her.

"How do you know?" she asked quietly.

Her conscience screamed at her. _This wasn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be his therapist, not confide in him about her social problems._ But she couldn't stop.

"Oh I see the real you." He hummed to himself. "I see her. And she's beautiful."

"The real me?" Harleen was captivated.

"Harley," he purred and from him the nickname didn't sound so derogatory. It sounded almost reverent. "Harley. Harlequin. Harlequin."

He said it over and over until at last Harleen could discern what he was truly saying. _Harley Quinn._ The woman behind Dr Harleen Quinzel.

"Harley Quinn," she repeated, finding she liked the name very much.

"They can't touch you," he said menacingly. "They can't touch the real you."

"I won't let them," she found herself whispering back. "They can't touch me. They're not allowed."

"Not allowed," he growled in agreement.

 _He's perfect_ , she thought. _He understands_.

 _He doesn't belong in here._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Circumstances**

* * *

It was true, Harleen did not have _many_ friends. Most women viewed her as competition and usually men were not satisfied with mere friendship. But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight she just needed to forget everything and to spend some time with the people in her life who really mattered. Her two closest friends, Elise and Thalia, were at her back as she strolled down the sidewalk, intent on making her night one worth remembering.

"This is what turning twenty-five is all about," they gushed. And right now with the buzz of alcohol in her system and the thrill of an eventful birthday night, Harleen had to admit that they were right.

It was one of those rare occasions that Harleen let her hair down, both figuratively and literally. When straightened, her long blonde hair brushed the bottom of her back. Paired with a short red dress and strappy heels, she looked killer. Elise had her fiery, red hair curled softly around her shoulders and was sporting a green strapless whilst Thalia had outdone herself with a sparkly black dress and matching peep toes. Feeling rather adventurous, and a little tipsy from the fruit tingles they had consumed, Harleen gave a cheerful wave to some guys who wolf whistled at them from their car as they sped past.

"Whoo! Go girl!" Elise collapsed into giggles as they made their way closer to Club Ace. Harleen linked arms with her girlfriends as they made their way down the boulevard, her stomach somersaulting as she recalled her earlier session with Mister J; the session that she needed to forget.

* * *

" _Good morning, Dr Quinzel. Don't you look stunning today?" His eyes followed her as she sat down across from him, chuckling at the blush that graced her cheeks. She had gotten rather used to his flattery by now, and even found that she rather liked it, but his compliments still left her feeling like a schoolgirl._

" _Thank you Mister J."_

" _Now why would you have reason to look so lovely this morning?" he asked mockingly, pretending to contemplate such a thought. A knowing smile crept into his features. "Oh I know. Could it be because it's someone's birthday today?"_

" _You must tell me someday how you know these things." Harleen shook her head in disbelief, though she was secretly pleased that he had bothered to take note of such a thing._

" _Like how I know that tomorrow would have been our sixteenth session together?" he asked, eyeing her wickedly._

" _You've been keeping track," she said softly._

" _Of course." He smirked at her. "But_ _ **someone**_ _has planned a long weekend to recover from all that booze buzz. So I miss out on the pleasure of your company."_

 _Harleen laughed, covering her mouth in amusement. "I've never heard it called booze buzz before!"_

 _Mister J's eyes turned serious and he sat up a little straighter._

" _Stay," he said firmly, almost a demand._

 _She froze. "What?"_

 _His lips pulled back in a disappointed pout. "Stay longer today. Please."_

" _I- I, uh…" Harleen wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't stay longer as she was finishing early for her night out with her girlfriends. They'd had it planned for months._

" _Stay," he begged her again. "I won't see you tomorrow."_

 _She bit her lip, feeling the cracks in her resolve but knowing that she couldn't let her two best friends down. She saw the disappointment in his face as he gauged her answer. He looked away and Harleen felt her dismay as his expressive eyes became blank once more._

" _I'm sorry, Mister J," she said sadly. "I can't today. My birthday… it isn't just for me, ya know? It's when I get to see my girls no matter how busy my schedule is. And I haven't seen them in a long time…"_

" _You should go to Club Ace," he said suddenly, staring at the table in front of him._

" _Club Ace?"_

" _There's a party there tonight," he snapped and Harleen flinched at his tone. "Every night."_

 _His eyes narrowed menacingly and he ran his tongue over his upper lip. "It's your party and you can cry if you want to."_

 _Harleen swallowed uneasily. "Sure. That uh… that sounds nice, Mister J."_

 _She didn't make much progress after that. He remained closed off for the rest of their session and Harleen was feeling thoroughly miserable by the time the clock ticked over on their last minute together._

" _I'll see you Monday, Mister J," she said dejectedly, collecting her notes as she headed for the door._

" _Wait, doc."_

 _Harleen paused, sucking in a hopeful breath as she turned back to him._

" _Happy Birthday," he said, giving her one tenth of his signature smirk._

 _Harleen exhaled in relief. "Thank you."_

 _A moment passed between them and Harleen bit her lip, considering her next move very carefully._

" _I think," she said quietly. "For our next session… we should have those restraints removed."_

" _I can't wait," he responded, eyes gleaming._

 _She nodded quickly, turning to leave when his voice stopped her once more._

" _Harley?"_

 _She shuddered, closing her eyes momentarily before looking at him over her shoulder._

" _Under different circumstances," he murmured. "I might have kissed you today."_

 _Harleen felt she might die, her heart shattering into a million pieces. "Under different circumstances Mister J… I might have let you."_

* * *

After her admission, Harleen had booked it out of there faster than a gazelle, her own shame threatening to consume her. By late evening, her alcohol intake had hit double digits and now she had somehow talked herself into visiting the very club that she had sworn to avoid.

 _Club Ace_.

"Ohhhhhh fancy," Thalia said appreciatively as the lights of the club came into view. An enormous neon joker card blazed above the door and Harleen stared in amazement.

"How…?"

But Elise and Thalia were already pulling her towards the entry eagerly. Then she caught sight of the line-up, letting out a sigh of disappointment; it twisted out towards the end of the block, disappearing from view around the corner.

"Come on, Harls," Elise insisted, strengthening her grip on Harleen's arm when she momentarily slowed her stride. "Let's see if they'll let us in!"

She very much doubted it, but Harleen let her friends tug her along as they neared the entry.

"Hey doll!" Elise greeted the bouncer, waving her hand enthusiastically in his face. "D'ya think we could score a free pass for the Birthday Girl?" She raised Harleen's arm as she gestured to her friend.

Harleen smiled apologetically for Elise's behaviour as the bouncer stared back at her stone-faced. He held his hand out expectantly and Harleen quickly retrieved her ID, slipping it into his palm. To her great surprise, the bouncer raised the rope immediately, giving them a brief nod as he let them pass.

"Oh my god!" Thalia practically screamed in her ear, the music of the club hitting them as soon as they passed through the doors and shutting out the unimpressed voices of the other patrons lined up outside. "That was awesome!"

But even in her brain addled state, Harleen couldn't help but frown at how easily they had gotten in.

"Yeah," she said uneasily, stumbling slightly as they navigated their way through the dark interior of the club. People brushed against her, someone slid a hand suggestively against her stomach, another stepped on her toe as they moved further into the club. "Isn't that kinda weird?"

"Don't be silly!" Elise waved it off as they moved toward the lights of the bar. "They saw your birth date on your license, that's all. This place is the bomb!"

Elise pushed Thalia and Harleen toward the dance floor. "Go dance bitches! I'll get us the drinks!"

* * *

Harleen was starting to enjoy herself, glad she had made the choice to come to Club Ace after all. She twisted and turned on the floor with Elise and Thalia, revelling in the flexibility of her body as she danced to the club music. The girls hadn't failed to attract attention either.

 _I need a gangsta  
To love me better  
Than all the others do  
To always forgive me  
Ride or die with me  
That's just what gangsters do_

Harleen gulped at another glass that Elise handed to her, grimacing at the burning aftertaste and abandoning the remainder of the emerald drink on a nearby table as she moved back into the rhythm of the song. She felt a warm, firm body press against her from behind and she turned, meeting the lustful gaze of a titan sized male. Judging by his size and shape, he could have been a quarterback, his large hands easily spanning her waist. She found herself pushing away from him though, unimpressed by his antics when her eyes lit up with interest as they landed on someone else.

 _I'm fucked up, I'm black and blue  
I'm built for it, all the abuse  
I got secrets, that nobody, nobody knows  
I'm good on, that pussy shit  
I don't want, what I can get  
I want someone, with secrets  
That nobody, nobody, nobody knows_

A dark stranger stood some ways off, staring at her through the throng of people. His shirt was loose at the neck, exposing the smooth planes of his chest and his dark hair was slicked back from his face. Even from a distance she could see the definition in his cheek bones, the expressive eyes and sensual mouth. He was quite possibly the only man not grinding up against some woman although it certainly wasn't from lack of interest from those around him. The man screamed pure danger and raw sexuality. Harleen licked her lips, unable to tear her gaze away as he stared at her intensely. He jerked his head slightly, inviting her closer and Harleen shoved off from the mammoth pawing at her, moving towards the alluring man instead.

Elise and Thalia continued to move obliviously behind her, inviting the quarterback to dance with them instead as Harleen continued her path towards the man. Before she knew it his arms were enclosing her and she was breathing in his inviting scent. She ran her palms over the leather of his jacket as his own hands began to wonder dangerously low on her body.

"What's your name?" he whispered in her ear.

She shivered. "Harley." She closed her eyes, picturing someone else. "Call me Harley."

"Harley," he indulged her and she smiled. "Nice name. I want you to know that I'm gonna enjoy this."

Harley felt her lids grow heavy and she blinked, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the fog.

"What's…?" She stared at the man through her lashes, her legs growing numb as they nearly buckled beneath her. His arms supported her, preventing her from falling as he half led, half dragged her towards a darker corner of the club.

"Did you... did you drug me?" she slurred as her eyes fluttered closed, the darkness nearly overtaking her.

She could feel herself becoming lighter and she continuously tried to shake her head as it lolled upon her shoulders. She blurred in and out of consciousness.

Hands were all over her body, heavy breathing against her neck and she winced, not liking the sensation at all. She pushed against the body that held her, weakly resisting what she knew could only be a bad thing, with a very bad man.

"Bad…" she whispered and she opened her eyes to find him above her. She shook her head no. He pushed her dress further down her chest, kissing her neck.

She shook her head again. "No."

When she felt his hands upon her thighs however, moving to push them apart, some rational part of her mind woke up and she fought through the haze. She slapped him. Hard.

"I said no, asshole!"

An angry red handprint blossomed on the man's cheek and he snarled at her, moving down to seize her legs again. Before she could even register what she was doing, Harley delivered a sharp kick to his face, the heel of her shoe catching the man's neck and ripping. The man let out a gargled scream, his hand seizing his throat as blood sluiced down his body and Harley quickly scrambled away from him. She fell to the floor hard, gasping as her knees met concrete floor. Her hands grasped the vinyl of the seat in front of her, pushing herself up as she tore open the curtain to the private booth.

She connected with a hard chest on the other side and she immediately began beating at the arms that came up to restrain her. Her resistance was futile however and she looked up helplessly into the eyes of her newest attacker.

It was the bouncer. His eyes flicked to the booth behind her and Harley dragged her gaze back to the man who had first attacked her.

He was dead. Bled out from the gaping wound in his neck. The wound she had made.

The thought should have disgusted her, should have made her want to curl into a ball and cry but she found herself smiling instead. Than she was giggling.

"Pig." She laughed. "Piggie, piggie."

The bouncer sighed, seemingly not the least bit perturbed by the carnage behind her. "I don't suppose you drank anything green did you?" he asked her, steadying her as she tried to grab the butterflies dancing in front of his face. He reached behind her for a moment, drawing the curtain closed on her handiwork.

Harley pouted as she tried to remember. "I drank all the colours."

He sighed again. "I'll take you to your friends," he said shortly as Harley began to sing.

"It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to…"

She heard her new friend talking to his chest and she stared at him curiously as they made their way back towards the centre of the club. "Whatcha doin?"

He ignored her and Harley caught a few words of what he was saying.

"Joker ain't gonna be happy about this… Scarecrow trying to bust in on his part of town. Drug's unstable as anything. Nearly messed up his plans big time."

Harley laughed again. "Are you friends with a scarecrow?"

"Harls!" Harley glanced up, grinning broadly as her friends raced towards her from the dance floor. "Babes!"

Elise stared at her in horror and Thalia began to shake, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Harley let out a squeak of delight and mimicked the motion. Her friends looked at the bouncer, aghast.

"Someone spiked her drink," he explained and Thalia clapped her hands to her mouth in horror as Elise seized Harley in a hug.

Harley hugged her back. "I killed a piggie," she said proudly.

"She'll be fine," the bouncer assured them. "Nothing happened and the drug will wear off. Just get her home."

"Well except for that mean guy," Harley said reasonably. "But he's as good as de-"

"Get her home," the bouncer interrupted. "And she'll be fine."

As Elise and Thalia began to usher her from the club, Harley turned around and waved cheerfully back at the bouncer.

"Tell Mister J, I said thanks!"

His face was priceless.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Waiting**

* * *

Water poured over every portion of her body, but it couldn't wash away the emptiness Harleen felt as she hugged her knees on the floor of her shower. It should have made her feel sick, distraught or angry even… but all she felt was some dark abyss that refused to finish the job and swallow her.

She wiped at her cheeks, almost hoping for some actual tears but there were none.

 _She'd killed someone_.

She slowly stood on shaky legs, shutting off the water and wrapping a towel around herself as she stepped out of the shower. She walked over to the basin, wiping away the stubborn steam that had fogged up the mirror. A playful girl in pigtails laughed at her from behind the glass and Harleen gasped, spinning to face the intruder.

The bathroom was empty.

Shakily, Harleen returned her attention to the mirror. Her own terrified reflection gazed back at her.

"You're losing it, girl," she whispered to herself. She pulled her damp hair back into a messy braid as she padded over to her bedroom. She collapsed onto the bed, burying her face into her pillow as she recounted the events of the previous night. The drug had eventually worn off but it had not taken away the memories. She remembered every horrifying moment in vivid detail.

She wasn't even certain if she was supposed go to the police. The bouncer had been awfully quick in dismissing her and hiding the body from sight. He'd also lied to her friends about the full extent of her encounter. Sitting up, Harleen raked her hands through her hair indecisively. She thought about what it would mean for her internship, what it _could_ mean for her career, closing her eyes in defeat as she realised there really was only one option.

She had to come clean. The police would be on her side; it had been self-defence, hadn't it?

 _He deserved it_.

Something by the window caught her eye and she rolled onto her side, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position. She felt her entire body become paralysed as her eyes fell upon the plush toy cat that rested atop her windowsill. There was a red, paper rose tucked between its paws. Her fingers reached toward the paper timidly, unfurling the origami piece to read the scripture inside.

 _ **Now you see her**_

– _**J.**_

Harleen's blood ran cold. She stared at the note for several seconds, her hands shaking.

 _That wasn't possible._

Harleen had given Mister J that same cat during one of their sessions.

* * *

" _Dr Quinzel," Mister J said smoothly. "I live for these moments with you."_

 _He eyed her curiously as she reached into her bag, retrieving the small gift she had brought him._

" _What have you got?"_

" _I got you a kitty," she said shyly, raising the plush toy as she might do a real kitten._

" _So thoughtful," he murmured in appreciation._

 _Harleen smiled, pleased that he seemed to like the gift. Truthfully, it was quite difficult to obtain permission for the inmates to keep personal items. But a toy cat wasn't likely to raise suspicions._

" _There is something you could do for me, Doctor," Mister J intoned._

" _Anything," Harleen responded immediately. "I mean, yeah."_

" _I need a machine gun."_

 _Harleen stared at him in disbelief. "A machine gun?" she echoed uncertainly._

 _He stared at her for a beat and then burst out laughing. "I'm just kidding, doc," he cackled and Harleen closed her eyes in relief._

" _Mister J," she attempted to scold him, unable to keep the grin from her face. "You shouldn't joke about things like that."_

" _Why not?" he challenged. "Who you gonna tell?"_

 _Harleen's smile faded slightly. "I would never do that," she said seriously. "I would never betray your trust like that."_

 _Mister J swayed in his seat. "What if I told you other things?" he asked, interest lighting his features. "Dangerous things? The things I_ _ **really**_ _want?"_

 _Harleen shook her head. "Never. I'd never tell."_

 _Mister J licked his lips. "Aren't you curious, doc?" he whispered to her. "Don't you ever wonder what you'd do if…?" He trailed off suggestively, a soft growl rumbling through his chest._

 _Harleen leaned forward, enthralled. "If what, Mister J?"_

" _If you had to make a choice…?"_

* * *

Harleen stood outside Mister J's cell, holding the incriminating cat in one hand whilst keeping her other fist curled protectively around the paper flower.

Mister J stared back at her through the glass, placing one finger against his lips. He raised one eyebrow, making certain she understood and she nodded slowly. He smiled, his gaze quickly shifting to the security camera in his cell and then to the guards that were stationed strategically at the end of the hall. He wasn't going to say a word that would incriminate himself, not with so many eyes watching.

Harleen turned on her heel and strode back towards the front desk, quietly pocketing the cat and flower. The weaselly desk clerk, Louis, stared at her in surprise when she handed over her appointment slip, something she had scribbled out rather hastily in the car journey to the asylum. Saturday appointments were not unheard of but they generally required written notice and did not usually include a "no-restraints" request. She drummed her fingers against the desk impatiently while he filled out the paperwork, silently cursing the administration trail that followed her every move.

After what seemed an eternity, Louis at last returned. "I'm sorry Ms Quinzel, but we don't have enough guards on duty today to fulfil your "no-restraints" request," he said apologetically. "Inmate 0801 is ranked at a security level that requires a minimum of four guards when not restrained or in his cell."

"I know that. And usually I would have filed a pre-request, but I'd forgotten about our appointment today," she lied quickly. "You see I promised Mister- uh Inmate 0801 that our next session would proceed without restraints."

Louis shook his head firmly. "Not today." His denial was met with a cold glare.

"Is it really necessary?" Harleen demanded in exasperation. "He's had fifteen sessions now without incident. I think he would benefit immensely from a meeting where he isn't tied to a chair!"

"He earned that security level," Louis stated a little defensively. "I'm sorry but he won't be having any visitors today while unrestrained."

Harleen felt something unfamiliar simmering in her gut; a dark and primitive reaction. "And how many _visitors_ have you let past those doors?" she snapped suddenly, enjoying the look of anxiety that stole over Louis. "How many guards have enjoyed abusing those inmates while you look the other way?"

"None. N-never. That would be unethical," Louis stammered, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Favours are worth more than cash in an institution like this," she continued icily. "And pleading ignorance gets you many favours. But you already knew that."

"I don't know wh-what you m-mean."

"The system will never run out of desk jockeys," she warned. "If someone were ever to report your _dealings_ to the head of security… who do you think they'd look after first? Certainly the guards. Even the inmates would stand a better chance, I'd wager. At least they provide some entertainment."

Harleen leaned closer and Louis took a step back, frightened by this new side of her.

"Ignorance is what you do best, Louis. Best not lose that attribute now."

He quickly fumbled with the paperwork, scratching out a barely coherent signature and Harleen smiled sweetly at him.

"Thanks Louis," she chirped brightly, tugging the slip from his fingers. "You have a good weekend."

He stared after her as she strode back towards the inmate cells, unnerved by the slight spring in her step which he had failed to notice before.

* * *

"There she is." Mister J was seated in his usual spot, but this time the straitjacket was noticeably absent.

Harleen couldn't help the slight swell of pride she felt at the sight; she had promised Mister J she would have his restraints removed and she had delivered… because she cared. She hoped he knew that.

He seemed to be following the same train of thought since he grinned at her, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers playfully. "Peculiar feeling," he commented. "Didn't know we had a session planned today doc, but I gotta say it's a delightful surprise."

She sat down across from him, all traces of his playfulness vanishing when she brandished the kitten and origami rose. She placed them on the table neatly between Mister J and herself, watching his reaction carefully.

"Care to explain how these ended up in my room?" she asked.

Silver teeth winked at her. "I put them there."

Harleen shook her head. "The truth, Mister J."

His smile morphed into a twisted snarl. "I have never lied to you," he hissed furiously.

She shrank back. "Please, Mister J."

He seemed to relax under her beseeching stare, evidently satisfied by her submission. "But that's not what you really came to ask, is it sweetness?"

Harleen's gaze flicked to the one-way glass, the ever present mirror that reminded her that her sessions were always being watched.

"Ignore them," Mister J said, eyes fixed on her. "They can't hear us."

"If you had been in my room," she said quietly. "I'm sure the guards would be very interested to know how you accomplished that."

"Is that a threat, my dear Harley?" His eyes gleamed menacingly.

"No."

"What then?"

"You can't do this," she pleaded, uncaring if he was angry with her.

He stared at her for a moment. "And why ever not?"

"Please," she begged reaching for his hand, needing the contact. "If they suspect anything is amiss, they'll take you away." Her eyes welled up with tears. "And this will all stop."

His eyes softened. "Oh sweet Harley." His fingers entwined hers. "You still don't understand."

"You protected me," she said, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. "Last night. You weren't there but I know you did. Somehow."

"You do seem to have a type," he observed, clenching his teeth slightly.

"He wasn't you, Mister J," Harley assured him. "He wanted to hurt me."

"And did you kill him for me?" He cooed at her, his smile threatening to split his face in two. He knew the truth; she could see it. "Did you kill him good?"

Harley nearly sobbed. "I didn't mean to." She turned her face away from the glass, terrified the guards would see her tears and barge in. "But I did."

"No one else has to know, doc." His thumb stroked circles on the back of her palm. "Two can keep a secret." His eyes bored into hers. "Just you and me."

"Yes," she murmured, caught in his gaze. "Just you and me."

She sniffed, feeling better now that she spoken with Mister J and gently extricated her hand from his. "You're right. When all of it's over, we can have this."

He frowned at her. "When it's over?

Harleen smiled. "Yes. Your sentence. When your time is served, we can be together. I'm going to wait for you."

Mister J's frown deepened. "I think there's been a misunderstanding between us, doc. I don't plan on staying."

Harley blinked at him. "But I thought-"

"Let's be clear on something," he interrupted, a sinister look overtaking his features. "I can leave at any time, Harley. There's a whole lot going on outside that needs my attention. You've seen what it's like out there now. Chaos needs its master."

"You ain't stayin?" Harley felt her breath leave her.

"The city is without a king," he purred. "Can't have that. Gotham deserves better."

Harley stared at him in a daze. "I can't stop you."

"No," he agreed. "But you could help me." His toothy grin stretched wide. "You could come. It's your choice."

People talked about moments like this. The moment in your life that makes you, and justifies who you really are. Sometimes these moments were subtle, like the tick of a clock; and sometimes they were about as subtle as the final tick of a bomb. Like this moment.

Her eyes shone. "What do you need from me, Mister J?"

"Finally," he rasped, his blue eyes reflecting the same manic desire in hers. "I've been waiting for you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Doctor Isn't Home**

* * *

 _ **Would you lie for me?**_

* * *

It took Harleen nearly everything she had to sit in Dr Reddman's office and lie through her teeth; to throw her career and everything she had worked for down the toilet. _I guess that's the price_ , she thought, _that's the price for love._

Dr Reddman's nostrils were flared, his face redder than she had ever seen it. "You know what this means, Dr Quinzel?" he fumed at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "You understand the consequences of being so neglectful in your duties?"

Harleen hung her head. "I do," she said quietly. She was afraid that if she spoke any louder, the walls might cave in around her. Her hands twisted in her lap, pushing her nails deeply into her palm. She blinked, shaking her head slightly as she tried to remain focused. _Why was everything shaking?_

"Focus, Harleen," Dr Reddman snarled at her, seemingly oblivious to the world shuddering all around him. "Now where did you last leave it?"

Harleen's vision swam and she shivered. "What?" Her voice sounded faint to her and she reached out her hand, trying to catch the sounds that drifted from her lips.

"Dr Quinzel!" Dr Reddman practically shouted, startling Harleen and she shrank back in her chair. "Where is your access card? We need to locate it immediately before something terrible happens!"

"It's already happening," Harleen whispered, her lips trembling.

A thunderous boom suddenly shook the walls of the office and Harleen knew that Dr Reddman had felt it this time. "What the blazes?" His eyes darted frantically about the room as plaster pieces tumbled from the ceiling. "Harleen, what did you do?"

His eyes clouded over in rage but his next words were drowned out by the second wave of blasts as he fell from his chair. Harleen braced herself against the wall. Screams could be heard from the corridor and she closed her eyes in dismay, knowing she had caused this.

Rough hands seized her by her coat and she glanced up into the furious eyes of her superior.

"What is this? Harleen, fucking answer me!"

Spittle landed on Harleen's cheek as he screamed at her and something within her suddenly snapped. Clarity overtook her and she shoved off from Dr Reddman, wiping the saliva flecks from her face in disgust.

 _Superior?_ _Hardly_.

She let out an abrupt giggle, slapping her hand to her mouth as she laughed herself silly. Dr Reddman stared at her from the floor, frozen in the position he had fallen in. "Harleen?" he asked uncertainly, eyes flicking to the door as screams and gunshots sounded from beyond the office.

"Sorry," Harley sang, flipping her hair mischievously. "The doctor isn't in right now."

A shrill scream echoed particularly close to the door and Dr Reddman moved to investigate but Harley shoved him back down. He stared at her in alarm as she seized a tungsten paperweight from his desk.

"Uh uh," Harley tutted, shaking the paperweight threateningly. "No leaving before the game is done!"

"What game?" He looked positively terrified now as a machine gun could be clearly heard ripping apart the asylum.

Harley grinned. " _My_ game!" She moved closer, edging toward him but leaving a clear opening. She was daring him to run.

To her delight he took the bait, attempting to charge past her towards the carnage that awaited him. Ironic that he should fear her more than what was clearly a massacre occurring beyond his office. Either that or he was just plain stupid. In his haste, he ran like a blundering bull, his foot catching on the side of his desk and sending him tumbling to the floor once more. His soft, fleshy head connected with the doorknob, opening a gash on his forehead and effectively knocking him out cold.

Harley dropped the paperweight in disappointment. It landed next to his body with a dull thump. "Spoil sport," she pouted. Her fingers grazed the red fluid smeared across the doorknob and she opened it curiously.

Chaos like nothing she ever could have imagined greeted her on the other side. "Oh, Mister J," she said in wonderment, trailing down the hallway as bullets whizzed by her and men dressed in dark costumes and animal heads battered down doors. Fire licked up the defences of the asylum as Harley nimbly stepped over fallen bodies, each step bringing her closer to her ultimate goal. Her coat and hands quickly became stained with blood as she dragged her palms across the walls, fascinated by the beautiful crimson colours. The goons around her took no notice as she passed by them, too focused she was on the pretty patterns of the smoke and blood to really draw their attention.

"Harley!"

That name struck a chord within her and Harley froze, numbness overtaking her. She turned around slowly, her eyes taking in the terrifying form of Mister J at the end of the hall. He was dressed to impress, looking every bit the clown prince of crime, outfitted with a trench coat that dragged to his knees. His chest was bare, displaying the full extent of his tattoos and his hands were encased in eccentric purple gloves. He lifted one of those gloved hands now, beckoning her to him, a wide grin stretched taut across his face. But her eyes were drawn to his other hand, the one dangling by his side. The one grasping the severed head of Dr Jennings.

At the sight of the severed head, the last shreds of Harleen's self-preservation finally kicked in and she took a fearful step back, her stomach somersaulting with her breakfast. She was not Harley Quinn and this was not her Mister J; this was the Joker in full swing. The glee from his eyes suddenly vanished and the Joker snarled in rage as she darted through the nearest doorway, slamming it shut behind her.

Harleen threw the deadbolt on the archive office door, shoving a filing cabinet across the frame for extra measure. A moment later, a metallic thud connected with the door and Harleen gasped as she saw the force of the blow had managed to put a dent in her only barrier. She slid down the wall of the office and crumpled into a heap on the floor, knowing she had only moments before he would have his hands around her throat.

Another loud screech of metal and Harleen put her hands over her ears, letting out a shrill scream. She rocked backwards and forwards, closing her eyes tightly and wishing it all away. Mister J wouldn't do this to her. He couldn't. The door bowed inwards, the deadbolt twisting unnaturally as the Joker's goons forced their way inside and Harleen reminded herself that Mister J was gone. Perhaps he never was…

She let out a terrified sob when the door finally caved off its hinges, the sudden blast of gore and smoke assaulting her senses. She cowered against the filing cabinets, ashamed, afraid and anguished all at once. Dark boots and purple leather appeared in her line of vision as she forced her eyes to look at the floor, terrified to meet his gaze.

He bent down to her level, a leather glove making its way under her chin and forcing her to look up. To look at _him_.

"You disappoint me, doc," the Joker growled softly as he gripped her chin in a vice. Thankfully, he had abandoned the severed head. "All this foreplay and… no climax."

"I did what you asked, Mister J," Harleen whimpered pathetically. "I left you the key card, didn't I?" She cried out when his hold on her tightened even further. "Please." He stood, the strength with which he gripped her chin forcing her to stand with him.

His eyes raked her face, searching for any trace of the fearless female she'd been only moments ago. The lady lune he knew could match his crazy. His Queen of Hearts.

A tear slipped down her cheek and he paused, releasing her chin to gently wipe it away. "Didn't I also ask for you to wait for me?" he chastised her softly. "Didn't I tell you to stay put until I came for you?"

"I couldn't," she whispered, petrified. "I was so scared."

"No you weren't. You were inquisitive." He tilted his head in consideration, a wicked smile creeping onto his features. "It's all that guilt you carry isn't it, baby?" Harley's watery eyes quickly darted away in shame. "All that pain from trying to hide who you really are." He stepped closer, he was everywhere, invading her space, her senses and her logic.

He cupped her cheeks. "Just let it go," he whispered to her, baring his silver gnashers. "Let it all out, baby. I want it all." Harleen shook her head in denial and the Joker grew more insistent. "Let. Her. Out."

Harleen forced her gaze to his. "No." Her voice was terrified but firm. She had given her heart to Mister J, not this monster.

The Joker raised an eyebrow at her, dropping all pretence of asking. "No?"

Harleen shook her head again to reinforce her point and the Joker's gaze hardened.

"Fine," he snapped. "Guess it's the hard way, sweetness."

He shoved her into the arms of two of his lackeys, laughing as she struggled in their grip. His eyes flashed manically. "I'll _make_ her come out!"

* * *

Harleen was dragged through the warehouse, her struggles real but futile. The Joker and his men continued to blast up the place, as though it needed more bullet holes as she was forced into the electrotherapy room. She was manhandled onto a patient bed and her struggles grew more desperate, more insistent as she was strapped into place. Her panicked eyes darted to the Joker in last ditch plea but he merely sent her a saucy wink, shrugging out of his trench coat and draping it on a nearby chair.

Her head was yanked back against the bed and Harleen screamed. "Get off me!"

A thick strap was whipped across her forehead, holding her neck in place as she breathed raggedly, her chest rising and falling in short, desperate pants.

"What do we have here?" Her eyes rolled back, attempting to locate the Joker as he playfully sidled into view. He'd kept his gloves on but the rest of his torso was bare as he grinned lewdly at her. He yanked the light fixture above her bed firmly into place, leaning against it as he sighed in contentment.

"What are you gonna do?" she demanded, trying to quell the growing knot of terror in her chest. "You gonna kill me, Mister J?"

"What?" he twisted his hand to his ear as though hard of hearing, grinning in amusement. He leaned back, eyes gleaming excitedly as he retrieved the electrocution prods.

"Oh, I'm not gonna kill ya," he promised, running his tongue over his teeth. "I'm just gonna hurt cha. Really…" He lifted one prod. "Really…" He raised the other prod. " _Bad_."

Her eyes locked onto the black ink on his chest and Harleen sucked in a breath. There on his right pec was a rather prominent tattoo of a jester… a dead jester. She couldn't be certain of its meaning, the skeletal clown could easily be something from his past, but she stared at it for the symbol it was. A dark spectre encased by a jester hat for a crown. Conscience be damned, she wanted that crown. Her eyes glazed over. She wanted it all. She wanted _him_.

She knew he saw it, that snap within her. The flick of the crazy switch that put her lunatic back into pilot mode. Now all he needed was to keep her there. He held the prods next to her head, the maniac in him frantic to begin.

"You think so?" Harley challenged him, her gaze silently promising exciting things to come. "Well, I can take it."

The Joker wasted no time in gagging her, placing a quick kiss against her bound lips before shoving the prods against her temples.

Harley screamed silently into the belt, biting down hard on the material until she saw stars. The electric jolts took her to her highest point, holding her there on the precipice of pure agony and inebriated freedom. And on that precipice, she found what she needed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Addiction**

* * *

 _ **Would you kill for me?**_

* * *

"We just gonna leave her here, boss?" The voice sounded almost concerned to Harley's ears and she shook with silent amusement… or was it fear? She couldn't tell the difference in that moment, not with all her emotions warring for dominance. She blinked her eyes as she slowly came to, unsure of how long she had been unconscious.

The gag was carefully removed from her mouth and she breathed in the fresh scents of mint, smokebombs and leather. Bright lights danced in the corner of her vision and she yanked hard at the straps on her limbs, impatient to be free of her restraints.

"Shhhhhh, careful there honey," a silky voice purred. "Wouldn't wanna leave a mark."

A gentle caress on her inner arm had Harley quivering as the restraints on her wrists were gradually peeled away and she turned her head towards the owner of that melodic voice.

 _Mister J_.

The Joker grinned at her, his hand coming up to support her back as she slowly sat up. "Easy now," he murmured encouragingly, moving to the straps at her ankles and removing those as well. She watched in fascination as he stretched out a hand toward her face, eyes alight with anticipation…

"Boss?"

The Joker's smile quickly fell from his face and he rounded on the persistent henchman. An abrupt backhand sent him sprawling backward, the rings on the Joker's hand slicing open the man's cheek as he grunted in pain.

"Can't you see we're having a moment?" The Joker growled, chastising the man as though he were a child. His gaze quickly returned to Harley who was watching the exchange with morbid curiosity. Her fingers twitched and she reached up toward her face, tracing a phantom wound down her cheek.

"I bet that hurts," she spoke at last, eyes glued to the blood as it dripped down the man's chin. Her lips pulled back in a delighted smile and she looked at Mister J questioningly. "Can I have a turn?"

The Joker held his arm out, inviting her to try. To his credit, the henchman did not flinch. Perhaps he thought a hit from a girl wouldn't hurt that much. That made Harley mad. She glared at the man, intent to prove him wrong as she pulled her arm back and smacked him as hard as she could across the face. Her hand shook a little, the after effects of the shock therapy, but she landed a solid hit.

No one made a move to stop her and she felt a slight thrill when she managed to snap the man's head to the side. But that was all. There was no satisfaction, just a quick cheap thrill. Harley frowned. She curled her hand into a fist this time and hit him again across the other cheek. His head snapped back again but still she felt unfulfilled. She huffed in frustration.

"It's not enough, is it?" The Joker watched her in amusement and she nodded in response. "Something's missing."

Something cool and metal slipped into her fingers and Harley stared at the weapon that Mister J had placed into her hand. It was a small slip of a blade but it would do the trick; it only needed to pierce skin. She stared at it for a moment, hesitation plainly written across her features.

"Now try it." The Joker watched her closely, eyes trained on the weapon in her hand, waiting to see if she would use it.

Harley looked at the man again and saw that he was afraid now. He swallowed reflexively, eyes darting between her, the blade and the Joker. Yet still, he made no sound of protest. A hard hand curled around hers and Harley trembled as Mister J forced her off the table by her arm. She stumbled a step before finding her footing, her hand clasped in his as Mister J directed the knife towards his henchman.

"Do it." His voice was harsh, commanding and Harley impulsively wanted to obey. But this was too much. She turned to the Joker defiantly, yanking her hand from his and lifting her chin stubbornly.

"I don't want to."

A tick appeared in his jawline. "Then you'll stay here until you do."

He jerked his head towards the door and his men immediately started to file out including the goon whose life he'd threatened only moments before. None of them said a word or even questioned him. Mister J kept his eyes trained on her until the last man disappeared through the doorway before turning to accompany them. Harley blinked in confusion, her heels clicking as she moved to instinctively follow him.

"No, no Harley." Mister J turned around, wagging his finger at her and she paused. "You stay here."

"But Mister J…" Harley began to protest.

"You stay here until you've learned your lesson." His words rang with finality.

"To kill someone?" The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

The Joker ran a hand slowly down her cheek, almost a caress, before seizing her neck in a vice. "To kill for _me_."

Then he shoved her backward, her hip connecting painfully with the table as she crumpled to the ground. She let out a soft cry at the impact and something strange flitted across his face. He took a step toward her but Harley flinched away from him, fearing further punishment. He let out a growl of annoyance, his coat nearly whipping her in the face as he strode purposefully from the room.

She didn't follow him.

 _Why would she?_

* * *

It didn't take Harley long to seek out other thrills. From the moment Mister J had left her, there'd been an undeniable thrill for the unattainable that threatened to claw its way out of her. Not a thrill for the kill but definitely an unrelenting urge to dance with the devil. This thought occurred to her even now as she rubbed herself against some pretty boy dressed as a demon. For Halloween, she'd opted to dress as an angel. As if they even existed. Her wings sparkled with glittery perfection, the delicate gauze nearly ripping as they tangled in between the mess of bodies.

But it wasn't enough.

It had been weeks and still she'd seen no sign of Mister J. She'd seen enough cops to last her a lifetime and, criminal or not, she now understood their infuriating persistence. They'd yet to link her to the asylum attacks but she knew it was just a matter of time. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd had to lie about her statement; and she was becoming increasingly good at it.

To pass the time, she'd been coming to Club Ace for the past few nights, intent on seeking out her maker but he'd made no appearance. The Joker was like a drug that refused to leave her system and she was desperate for another fix. She gritted her teeth in frustration as wandering hands danced as little too low for her liking. Seizing the guy's wrists, she placed them firmly against her hips as she grinded and moved to the music. Her short white dress was attracting all manner of the wrong crowd but Harley stuck with the man she'd selected from the beginning. She didn't need a throng of groupies. She just needed _him_.

 _Here I stand, helpless and left for dead_

 _Close your eyes, so many days go by_

 _Easy to find what's wrong, harder to find what's right_

 _I believe in you, I can show you that I can see right through all you empty lies_

 _I won't stay long, in this world so wrong._

She was at breaking point, desperate for any sighting of him that she even tried to envision the man she was dancing with was him. But none of it fit. There were no tattoos, no red lips or twinkle of the eye. There was no addictive darkness. Even the scents were all wrong as the smell of alcohol drowned out everything else. She found herself getting angry, furious even that Mister J had left her in this state. He dealt out punishment as he saw fit yet refused to show himself when she was so clearly seeking his attention.

She pressed herself harder against the guy that was glued to her back, so hard that it bordered on painful yet he made no complaints. His hands dug into her hips just as painfully. His nose was in her hair and Harley shuddered in disgust, about to shove him off when all of a sudden he slumped against her. Harley yelped, unable to support his weight as they began to topple. _Had he passed out?_

Another pair of hands seized her from behind, dragging her out of the man's arms and towards a waiting booth. A terrifying flashback swamped her vision and Harley fought the hands that held her.

"No!" she protested, whirling to shove her hands into her assailant's throat. She caught a whiff of smoke bombs and leather and she froze, her eyes darting up to her attacker.

"Mister J?" She'd never seen him so livid. She spared a quick glance for the guy she'd been dancing with; he was flanked by two bodyguards as they "escorted" him from the dance floor. Her stomach dropped when she recognised the man's fate but she held her ground. This was what she came for. The Joker pushed her behind the curtain into the private section, away from prying eyes before rounding on her.

"You tryin' to make a habit of this?" His lips were bared in a snarl.

"Did you… is he dead?" Harley knew the answer but she needed confirmation.

"He will be soon."

Harley held her breath, her eyes lighting up expectantly.

The Joker stared at her for a moment before it finally clicked.

"He doesn't count."

Her heart stuttered. "W-what?"

The Joker leaned closer, his arms coming up to imprison her between his body and the wall.

"Bringing him here," he murmured in her ear. "Marking him for me. Clever. But he's not your kill."

Harley frowned in disappointment. "Why not?"

"Pointing the gun isn't the same as pulling the trigger, Harley," he chuckled against her neck and she gasped when he delivered a soft bite to her collarbone. His tongue and lips immediately laved at the mark, sucking harshly in a manner that would leave a very prominent hickey.

Harley's hands came up to twine in his hair as she surrendered to the sensation. She nuzzled into his neck as he attacked her collarbone, eliciting soft gasps of appreciation from her throat. _If she could just keep him focused on-_

He pulled away just as suddenly, laughing quietly when she mewled in protest. "You haven't paid the fare yet." He shook his head at her. "You're so close."

"I can do it, Mister J" she breathed, nearly believing it herself. "I can kill for you."

His response sent delicious chills down her spine. "Find me when you do, baby."

* * *

 _Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight._

 _Don't you dare look at him in the eye, as we dance with the devil tonight._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Tag, You're It**

* * *

 _ **Would you die for me?**_

* * *

Business as usual with the cops was becoming less and less entertaining. Harley drummed her nails against the smooth, steel surface of the interrogation table. _How many doughnut and coffee breaks did these guys take?_

She stood up, dragging her hand across the table in boredom as she approached the one-way glass. The room reminded her very much of Arkham; only less Mister J. She inclined her head, watching her reflection do the same and tried to recreate that maniac smile she'd once seen in the mirror. She looked too much like the doctor though.

For the purpose of the interview, she'd worn a blue button up blouse and business pants, her glasses placed strategically on her nose and her hair pulled back in a bun. _Dr Harleen Quinzel_. She bared her teeth at the woman in the mirror, spinning away from the disturbing image. The door to the interrogation room opened just as she slipped back into her seat, smiling pleasantly at the officer who entered.

"Care to dance to a tune for the tenth time?" Harley batted her eyelashes innocently.

"Shouldn't be hard," the officer stated, his cliché handlebar moustache twitching in irritation. "But this time, we're going to go over your statement about your superior, Dr Reddman. And how he ended up in that coma."

Harley stiffened. "He's awake?"

"Last night," the officer confirmed. "And he was asking after you."

Harley forced a smile. "How considerate."

"He had some very interesting things to say about you." The officer leaned his hands against the table, not in a threatening way but in a manner that said he didn't believe her. He raised his eyebrows at her. "What do you suppose he told me?"

"Well I hope he mentioned the part where I saved his life," Harley said sweetly. Although _spared_ was probably the more accurate term. She _had_ left him unharmed.

The officer looked surprised at this. "Actually he didn't men—" Static from the radio at his waistband abruptly cut off his next words as a commanding voice echoed from the speaker.

"We're going to need all officers out here ASAP, copy."

The officer looked conflicted for a moment, staring intently at Harley as his hand edged reluctantly toward the radio. Harley pretended to look bored, studying the bright polish she had used on her nails that very morning.

"Go ahead, Sarg," he spoke into the radio, eyes glued to Harley.

"Got a visual of the Batman on a chase. He's in pursuit of a purple lambo driving erratically. We need to set up a perimeter on Northside before he can reach the Merchant District. If he keeps up, civilian casualties will be enormous."

Harley froze. _It was him. It had to be. Who else had a biff with the Bat? Or drove like the perfect madman?_

"Copy that." The officer's attention was on more important things now as he turned to presumably dismiss her. "We're going to have to reschedule this Ms Quinzel…"

"Please call me Harley," she said, plastering on a charming smile.

He gave her a brief frown of disapproval before waving her off.

"Got places to be, officer?" she asked quietly as he yanked open the door to the main office and ushered her out.

 _Me too._

* * *

The chase was exhilarating. Everything she had done and everything she would do for him would be worth it. This would _always_ be worth it.

Harley laughed aloud even as her eyes stung with the intensity of the wind, racing through the streets of Gotham after her mad maker. If she'd been in her right mind, she would have worn a helmet. But Harley was way past that. The motorbike she'd stolen (a Harley of course) was the perfect choice of vehicle to keep up dually with the Batmobile and the Lamborghini's speed and ferocity. At every turn, she wondered if either driver would lose control of their vehicle as they mounted curbs and took corners as if they didn't exist. More than once she nearly lost them.

She doubted either of them noticed her in pursuit, at least not yet. But she was starting to gain on them. She knew that soon either the Joker would have to lose the Bat or she would have to intervene. She would not get another chance like this. She accelerated even harder, determined to overtake the cumbersome black vehicle driven by the masked vigilante but he left her no opening. She couldn't tell whether this was purposeful or not.

The trio of vehicles roared onto a somewhat deserted street at the back of the red-light district and, much to Harley's delight, she recognised the suburb. There was a well-lit alley up ahead which she had often used as a shortcut when she lived in the area three years ago. It was just wide enough to fit a bike… but certainly not two cars. She made up her mind in two seconds and with a squeal of tires, she yanked the bike off its current course and tore down the alleyway instead. The Joker had gained some ground on the Bat and she was certain that if she took one more street, she could get between the two vehicles.

With the prospect of victory at hand, Harley revved the bike and raced onward. There was a momentary flash of purple as the Lamborghini raced across her line of vision and Harley could barely contain her excitement as she careened across the Batmobile's path. She slammed on the brakes, smoke and gravel spitting up from under her wheels as she brought the bike to a near standstill. The wicked smile she flashed the Bat just about dared him to collide with her but, rather than risk it, he altered course, sending his car ploughing into a side street. A resounding crash echoed across the streets as he struck multiple barriers but the armour on his car prevented any real damage to the vehicle.

Harley revved the bike again, peeling away without checking to see if the Bat had regained his momentum. If she strayed any longer, she was likely to lose Mister J as well. To her surprise, she caught up with him a lot quicker than she expected, realising that this should only be possible if he had slowed down. As she got closer, it was evident that he had indeed taken his foot of the accelerator for reasons unbeknownst to her. Those reasons quickly became apparent however when he sped up once more at her approach. She giggled a bit at that. The beef he had with Batsy was obviously more than just a rivalry; it was a _game_. And with the Bat out of play, she'd just been tagged in.

* * *

The joyride lasted for another half hour and with Mister J showing no indication of slowing down or tiring, the appeal was quickly wearing off. As fun as it was to speed around the streets of Gotham on a stolen bike, Harley was eager to reunite with Mister J. She hissed in frustration when he made yet another dramatic turn and, finally fed up with the chase, she accelerated to the point that her tires squealed. She quickly peeled ahead, driving alongside the Lamborghini in the narrow street as she whipped her head in his direction. The tinted windows, however, were too dark for her to see clearly into the interior and before she knew it, Mister J had slammed on the brakes and snapped the car into reverse. With a curse, Harley yanked the bike sharply, barely staying on the seat as she pulled a 180o, fearful she would lose him. But she needn't have bothered as Mister J wasn't able to maintain the same speed and momentum while controlling the car in reverse.

As they approached a bridge, the Joker finally seemed to recognise her determination, or perhaps he had simply grown tired of the chase. With the bike in pursuit, the Lamborghini at last braked before shooting forward as Mister J attempted to navigate around her. But Harley was having none of this and with a quick tilt, she drove the bike into the asphalt, sending it screeching across the road. She slipped from the wreckage relatively unscathed as the bike continued its collision course toward the Lamborghini. Mister J expertly swerved to avoid the bike but rather than risk harm to Harley herself, he brought the car to an utter standstill mere inches from her person.

She glared at him through the dark windscreen, smirking slightly when she saw him slam his fist against the dashboard in frustration. She waited for him to get out of the vehicle but stubbornly he still seemed to be holding out hope that she would get out of the path of the car.

 _He would be severely disappointed._

He revved the car and Harley narrowed her eyes at him, unfazed and unmoving.

"Get out of the car!" she demanded. She received no response but she knew he heard her.

Another rev and Harley brought down both her hands, slamming them against the Lamborghini's hood and ignoring the heat that seeped across her palms from the hot engine.

"Get out of the car!" she screamed at him.

The blazing headlights brightened even more as he flicked on the high beams, finally throwing open the driver's door.

Harley's breath caught in her throat when her eyes fell upon him. He looked more beautiful than ever, if that was even possible. Even in his fury, he was magnificent.

"We've done this, baby," he growled at her, sauntering forward. "You said you'd kill for me… and I've been waiting so patiently."

"Bet you thought I wouldn't come," she giggled at him, momentarily forgetting her anger in his presence.

"Oh, no," he said silkily. "I knew you'd come. But I'm fairly certain I haven't received any gift bags from the morgue. Are we expecting company, hmmmmm?" He dragged his right hand in a downward motion, mimicking a blank canvas. "Setting the stage for the grand show? The _killing_ act, so to speak."

Her jaw clenched uncomfortably. "There's not going to be a show."

"Then we're done here."

"Wait! I'm tired of this," she spat at him. "I helped you to escape and this is the thanks I get?"

He scoffed. "Actually if I recall correctly, you left me in a black hole of rage and confusion. I was ready for you to join me." He jutted his chin in her direction. "You weren't."

Harley could hear the disgruntled rumble of a truck as it approached, surprised that it had taken this long for someone else to stumble upon their altercation. Her eyes flicked momentarily to the enormous semi that pulled into view, stopping about a yard back. An idea began to blossom in her mind as she felt the reassuring weight of the piece she had strapped to her hip.

"A show?" she hissed, her eyes flashing back to Mister J. He had obviously heard the truck too but he gave indication of moving their argument elsewhere. Harley's glasses began to fog up in the chilled night air and she fought the urge to rub them clean. Miraculously, the damned spectacles had somehow remained glued to her face throughout the entire chase. She thought about throwing them off but she knew she'd be a lousy shot without them and she very much planned on using her gun in the next few minutes. She eyed the driver getting out of his truck, her fury feeding her resolve. She could do this. "I'll give you a show."

"I hear words, sweet Harley," Mister J challenged her, delighting in the way she trembled with fury. She was becoming less timid; more fearless. A masterpiece. His.

Footsteps sounded behind him and Mister J sighed in irritation as he saw Harley's gaze shift to the intruder.

"Hey you, clowns!" That nickname alone had sealed the man's fate. He sounded old. And fat. And drunk. Possibly all three. "You wanna move your little lover's quarrel off the street? People have gotta get home."

"Oh do excuse me," the Joker muttered sarcastically as he turned around, fully intending to waste the miserable fool who had dared interrupt them. Harley suddenly seized his arm.

"Don't," she breathed.

A snarl of fury threatened to claw its way from the Joker's throat at the thought that _his_ Harley wanted to spare the life of some worthless nobody… he hadn't worked this hard only for her to fall short of all his expectations.

But she defied every single one of them in that moment as she suddenly yanked a gun from under her shirt, pointed it at the man… and pulled the trigger.

The sound of carcass hitting concrete was practically music to his ears and the Joker let out a chilling, echoing laugh. "Ohhhhhh, there she is." He grinned in triumph as his eyes fell on the chubby heap of a man that lay dead on the road behind him. "My pretty, fearless Harley."

His gaze returned to his beautiful creation but his smile fell slightly when he noticed that she now had the gun levelled at him. She didn't say a word, merely gazed at him with fierce determination.

He let out a bored sigh, rolling his eyes at the weapon. "I thought you'd be more creative than this. I did make you for a reason."

"Maybe this was the reason," she whispered, tightening her resolve and her grip on the gun. "Maybe I was created to end you."

"Maybe." He grinned at her gleefully, noting her distinct lack of remorse for the corpse behind him. "Do you want to find out?"

He spread his jacket dramatically, running a hand down his chest before quirking his fingers at her, inviting the shot. "Come on then, baby. Do it." He stepped right up to her and Harley let out a soft gasp when he pressed his forehead against the barrel of the gun. "Do it."

Her finger idled on the trigger; she should do it but even she knew she couldn't. She _wouldn't_. He knew it too. But still, he dared her to try. Like it was a choice for her.

"Do it, do it, do it," he chanted in a growl. He was rather patient given he had a gun to his head but even his tolerance had limits and after another moment of indecision, he snatched the gun from her hands.

He pointed the gun at his own head playfully. "You think this hasn't crossed my mind before?" he laughed. "Or what's left of it? But how boring! Where's the fun? Where's the punchline?"

He tucked the gun into his own waistband. "Two steps forward, one step back," he murmured to himself. "One last lesson then."

Harley saw it a split second before it came; he delivered a swift backhand to her cheek, sending her sprawling to the ground. "Anyone else and you'd be dead," he warned her but it sounded more like he was chastising her. She stared at him from the ground, raising a hand to her cheek regretfully. She hadn't made a sound, baring the pain without complaint. The blow hurt but not as much as the thought of her actually pulling the trigger. She'd earned this pain, even brought it on herself. _What was that saying? Love is pain…_

"I'm not angry," Mister J murmured, surprising her given that she felt the hit was deserved. "But that's the last time you start something you can't finish." His words left little doubt as to the consequences if she did. Her eyes were drawn to his lips as his tongue darted out to the corner of his mouth and he stared at her hungrily.

"There's so much I wanna teach you, Harley," he purred, clenching and unclenching his hands. "So much raw potential built up inside that I just need you to…" He suddenly snapped his hands together, the resounding clap making her jump. " _Unleash_."

"I'm yours," she whispered with conviction. With finality. "I'd do anything for you."

He smiled at her victoriously. "You're about to prove it." He motioned her toward the car. "Get in."


End file.
